


Introductions

by Noel_Cassidy



Series: Uzushio Survivors [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, Genma gets a new sparring partner, Genma is very friendly, Iruka is the only one with any manners whatsoever, Menma your Uzumaki is showing, Mother Hen Shiranui Genma, Uzumaki have Opinions about Fuuinjutsu, Uzushio Survivors AU, Violence and Jutsu- how ninja make friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 15:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noel_Cassidy/pseuds/Noel_Cassidy
Summary: Beginnings can be difficult, but sometimes a fresh start is worth it.In which Menma is introduced to Konoha ninja and Genma gets a new sparring partner.





	Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Edit:5/21/20 Fixed the formatting. I usually type in Microsoft Word, so indenting paragraphs doesn't look quite that obnoxious.

Menma woke up way too early, rolled over, and went right back to sleep for the first time since he was _ five _, probably, and didn’t return to consciousness until the sun was peeking through the window hours later.

It was _ heaven _.

Except for the part where he had to get up to shower and eat and generally _ do _things, but that was just the way life went.

And he got to sleep in again _ tomorrow _ if he wanted.

Why had he been arguing with Jiraiya about this for so long again?

Down the hall, a door slammed open and shut and someone else slammed their door open to start shouting angrily.

Ah, yeah, that might have had something to do with it. For all it wasn’t anything new.

He sighed and rolled himself out of bed, mentally starting to list what he would need to get. Actual dishes, for one. A proper set of towels, for another.

Also, food, Menma decided as he finished off the last little bits of field rations. Food would be good.

As much as he wanted to run out to a training ground and blow off some steam, it would probably be better if he actually got at least the basics for eating and washing up first. He’d have to take stock of his weapons and figure out what needed replacing anyways. Tetsuko would be ridiculously grumpy, but she wasn’t _ here _ and even if he wasn’t going to be going on missions, it was really unprofessional to not maintain his weapons. She’d probably be grumpier if he didn’t have any kunai left than if she caught him using someone else’s steel.

Three hours, one stop by a stall selling shiokara onigiri, one bank trip, and two storage scrolls later, Menma was in the middle of an internal debate between two different kunai sets. Iwa was getting their revenge for being trounced in the war by charging exorbitant amounts to export into Hi no Kuni or any allied countries. Which was actually harder on Suna than it was on Konoha because Suna had no other _ choice _ but to import their metal. There were a few good pockets of ore in the area, but ninja went through metal ridiculously fast, even the ones who used kunai and shuriken infrequently. A whole _ village’s _ worth of shinobi _ in addition _ to the samurai employed by the daimyo and nobles and all the various bits and pieces used by the civilians themselves? It really wasn’t all that much of a surprise that Suna was struggling to qualify as “scraping by”. And while importing ore from Fire was cheaper, Hi no Kuni had less of it to export than Tsuchi did, even if it _ was _ about the same quality. Add to that the fact that Suna didn’t really have anything to export _ other _ than their shinobi services….

_That _ whole situation was a bit of a powder-keg waiting to get hit with a katon jutsu, especially since Konoha hadn’t been able to help all that much because of the Kyuubi attack and certain individuals could and would construe that as Konoha abandoning an ally.

Anyway, Menma was in the middle of trying to decide if he should spend the extra ryo to buy a couple of sets of kunai that had a sheen he recognized Tetsuko as having literally _ drooled _ over at one point or just spend more money overall by buying a normal and cheap(ish) set, when he’d realized the shop owner had been looking at him with wariness (to be expected, especially as the man was a shinobi retired because of a leg injury) and no little amount of distaste.

Menma blinked. “What?”

“You’re really looking that hard at _ Tsuchi _ steel?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why?”

The man snorted. “’Cause they only send us the lousy tailings, that’s why,” he bit out sourly.

Menma just looked at him oddly. “I’m sure that’s what _ Iwa _ would like, but most of the merchants care more about their reputations than avenging the defeat of their scary ninja. They just go along with the price hike because they get more money from it; why not? And anyway,” Menma steamrolled over the shop-owner’s attempt at a rebuttal, “these aren’t Tsuchi kunai. Tsuchi _ steel _ , sure, but they’re _ Tetsu _ forged and you really can’t find anything of a quality higher than that.” He picked one up, blinked, and double-checked the price. It was _ really _ high, but the feel of the metal…. That was more like a _ chakra _ blade. It wasn’t actually— there wasn’t enough of the treated ore in it to do any elemental channeling without breaking the blade— but it did mean he could reinforce the blade and it would _ last _ longer.

High as it was, that was actually a _ reasonable _ price.

“You okay?” Someone else asked, surprisingly close for all that Menma had known he was there.

Menma glanced over at the man next to him, _ clearly _ a ninja, with dark brown hair just peeking out from under a knotted bandana, keen hazel eyes, and a senbon tucked between his teeth. “You look kind of like someone slapped you.”

“No, I’m fine.” Menma considered the kunai and it’s nine fellows for another moment, mentally comparing them to the amount of ryo left in his pocket. “How much for… all of them?”

The shopkeeper scowled. “Three thousand ryo.”

“Now that seems a little unfairly steep,” the needle-ninja commented wryly, “especially since they’re already a little overpriced for something you claim was made with tailings.”

The shopkeeper shifted his glare to the needle-nin, but didn’t say anything.

“How about… two thousand?” Menma offered. He wasn’t willing to let the man price gouge him just because he was in a snit, but he was entirely willing to pay a little more if something was worth it. And these _ were _.

Needle-nin raised an eyebrow.

“Twenty-five hundred,” the shopkeeper countered.

“Sure.” Menma shrugged and pulled out the correct number of bills by feel instead of showing the man just how much he had. There was the normal ritual of wrapping up his purchase and the exchange of money and Menma left, bidding the man a polite good morning as he did so.

“You know he stiffed you at least a hundred ryo per kunai, right?”

Menma glanced over at the needle-nin who had followed him and slipped one of the knives out for his inspection.

The man took it and blinked. “Did you have to buy them _ all _?”

“I can be pretty rough on my equipment, so, yeah.”

“Huh.” He tossed a look back over his shoulder. “Do you think he has any senbon like that?”

Menma shrugged, giving the kunai a pointed look. “Maybe. They usually cast senbon out of whatever’s left after they make everything else.” He did file that idea away to tell Tetsuko about. Specialty weapons were some of her favorite things, after all, and senbon were pretty cheap to make, even if you used special materials.

The needle-nin who was… a few years younger than him, actually, sheepishly and reluctantly handed the kunai back. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around the village before and that hair’s pretty memorable.”

“Not surprising since I only got here yesterday.”

Brown eyes blinked and then flicked over Menma, taking in the thousand and one details that told ninja so much about a person. “Probation, yeah?”

“One month,” Menma confirmed.

“Huh,” The senbon clicked. “You work with Intelligence, then?”

“Probably? Honestly, I don’t actually know. I only really had contact with my handler, but he’s…” Menma frowned, “trusted, so I didn’t feel like I needed to pry.”

The other ninja side-eyed him. “That’s… an odd stance for a ninja to take.”

Menma shrugged. “I kind of didn’t have a lot of options at the time and Konoha…. Konoha was a hell of a lot safer than anything else.”

An eyebrow ticked up and the senbon clicked. “Safer than staying out of things entirely?”

Menma shot the other man an incredulous look. “_ How _ ? There was a _ war _ going on. At least if I was working for Konoha, I didn’t need to worry about someone killing me for just _ existing _ .” Habit had him abruptly stop talking, before common sense and _ you don’t have to hide it anymore _ kicked in and he continued. “He just…. He taught me how to stay alive and made it so I didn’t have to choose between getting equipment and food. It kind of seemed rude to ask too many questions when I didn’t have to.”

“Fair enough.” The senbon clicked again and the needle-nin looked him up and down. “Have you had lunch yet?”

Menma blinked. “Uh, no. Why?”

“Good.” The younger man snagged his arm and started tugging him in the direction of a cluster of restaurants. “You don’t seem like you’re planning on retiring anytime soon, so you may as well get a head start and meet some of the rest of us.”

“Do I at least get to know my kidnapper’s name?”

“Is that how you talk to someone giving you free food? And it’s Genma. Shiranui Genma.”

“Menma. And I’ve kind of had to be careful the last couple of years.”

Genma made an understanding noise as he pulled Menma into a barbecue restaurant. “Yeah, but you’re _ in _ the village now. If you can’t handle a tokujo snagging you for lunch when you don’t have any other plans—” He paused. “You _ don’t _ actually have anything going on right now, right?”

“No.” Menma couldn’t bring himself to be anything but amused, especially as he couldn’t sense anything worrying from the younger man.

“—then you’re never going to survive in the village,” Genma finished without a beat.

“I’ve heard the stories.”

Genma snorted. “Yeah, well, the stories don’t really do it justice by half. Either that or they exaggerate too much.”

“What gets exaggerated?” Menma glanced over his shoulder at the brown-haired ninja with a mass of nasty looking scars over his nose and under his right eye who blinked at Menma and then turned a vaguely reproving frown on Genma.

The needle-nin had the guts to look _ offended. _

“Did he actually ask you or did he just grab you off the street?” The new-comer asked sympathetically.

Genma squawked.

“Street. Does he, uh, does he do that often?”

“Depends on the person,” the newcomer shrugged, obviously amused.

“Well, _ excuse me _ for _ not _ wanting to throw someone to the wolves when it comes to meeting Konoha shinobi,” Genma said, sounding a little put out. “At least this way he gets eased into things.”

Dark eyes flicked from Menma to the needle-nin and back and seemed genuinely surprised. “You’re on probation?”

Menma nodded. “My handler decided it was time for me to get out of the field.” He couldn’t stop the faint flicker of annoyance. “_ Past _ time, as far as he was concerned.”

“You’d rather still be out there?” Genma’s senbon clacked against his teeth.

“I’d rather he wasn’t _ right _ ,” Menma muttered peevishly. “He’s _ obnoxious _ when he’s right.”

“Namiashi Raidou.” He nodded politely and slid into the rather large booth beside them.

“Menma.”

Genma gave him a pointed look that Menma interpreted as _ sit your ass down now _. Which he did because the last time he’d seen that look it had been Kasumi telling him to shut up and hold still while she fixed up his arm.

“How long were you in the field?” Raidou asked.

“What, working for Konoha or just out there?”

The other man blinked. “There’s a difference?”

“Well…yeah.” Menma scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t get picked up by Konoha until I was fourteen, but I’ve been on my own since….” He chewed his lip. “Eight, I think.”

He glanced over in time to catch Genma’s brown eyes filled with concern and something that left Menma with the impression that the younger man wanted to wrap him up in something soft and warm and tuck him somewhere far away from the world.

“Well,” Raidou said carefully, “I’m glad you’re here now. Sounds like you could use a break.”

Menma sighed. “Yeah, but don’t tell my handler that. He’s really obnoxious when he’s right.” Pink hair with _ glitter _ . _ Lots _ of glitter.

“Who _ is _ your handler?”

“A pain in the ass.”

Genma barked out a laugh. “You walked right into that one, Rai.”

“You hush.” Raidou rubbed his face sheepishly.

“Is Genma adopting again?”

The ninja with brown hair covering one dark eye under his bandana hitai-ate snorted. “No, if Genma was adopting again, he’d look more like a wet kitten,” he answered his black spiky-haired friend.

“Keep that up and I’ll let Gai know you both volunteered to train with him for a week,” Genma drawled casually, sounding both annoyed and entirely too fond.

While the two newcomers turned as white as the bandage draped over Spikey’s nose, Menma turned to Raidou, sitting across from him. “So, he _ does _ do this a lot.”

Namiashi snickered. “He’s only _ adopted _ three, but there’s a reason he’s known as the Resident Shinobi Den Mother.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, because it’s a _ horrible _ thing to make sure people take care of themselves.” Genma aggressively clicked his senbon.

“You got _Hatake_ to eat actual food and take two whole days off before going back for a mission,” Bandana points out as he slides into the booth next to Raidou. “That’s not just _taking care_ of someone, Genma. Most would call that _aggressive_ _mothering_.”

Genma sighed and turned to Menma. “The two brats that just decided they wanted extra training—” he ignored the sudden loud and terrified protests, “—are Hagane Kotetsu—” he gestured to Spikey, “—and Kamizuki Izumo.” Bandana managed a distracted wave.

“Adopted?” Menma asked, legitimately curious, but also because poking Genma seemed like fun in general.

Genma glared at him a little, but mostly just looked amused. “More like they broke into my apartment and looked like wet kittens. What was I supposed to do, throw them out?”

“Throw who out? Oh!” Yet another newcomer walked up, but unlike everyone else, rather than giving Genma a hard time first, the teenager with brown hair up in a pony tail, dark eyes, and a thin scar running across the bridge of his nose immediately turned to Menma with a polite smile and an open hand. “Umino Iruka. And you are?”

“U—” Menma coughed into his elbow and then gripped the hand. “Menma.” No one was fooled by the distraction, but no one called him on it either for all that eyes suddenly flickered with curiosity.

It said something about these idiots that Menma felt so comfortable so quickly as to almost let his clan name slip. Because he _ was _ comfortable, more so than he’d been since the last time he and his friends had been able to meet up in Yokohama during the war. Every single one of the group that he worked with outside the village bickered amongst themselves like that. Chikako and Kasumi were always bugging everyone else into taking care of themselves or each other, Okamirou would relentlessly poke someone until they kind of exploded and laughed (or tried to kill him. Or both), Shinobu would occasionally say something utterly dry and amused and catch everyone flat-footed….

Or maybe it was mostly just that Umino-san was the only one who had actually been _ polite _and both Menma’s mom and Chika-sama had been kind of insistent about good manners.

Yeah, Menma was going with that last one. Umino may have only been around fourteen or fifteen, but it was pretty obvious he was _ comfortable _ with himself in a way that Menma had only ever seen with experienced veteran shinobi. Not that the kid was a powerhouse (he didn’t quite move like one) or was the sort of prodigy that Hatake-san or Namikaze-sama were (Menma would have heard about him before now if that was the case), but he knew what he could do and what was important and everything else could go hang. Or maybe Menma was just reading into things.

By the end of the lunch— which was really only as much of a party as it was because Genma’s three “chicks” liked spending time with him and Genma was apparently very much into group mothering— Menma had been further introduced to a painfully polite teen a year or so younger than Genma who looked a bit like death warmed over and had a chronic cough, and a tragically straight-laced gennin-teammate of Genma’s who had a preference for dark glasses and tepid water.

According to Kotetsu, Ebisu was the gateway to some of Konoha’s more… _special_ ninja. Not in the way that he _knew_ them (although he did, purportedly, know _some_ of them). Mostly in that he _was_ weird and being around him would desensitize Menma to Konoha’s milder oddities before he met someone who was downright _weird._

Really, the only ninja Menma was more than a little tentative about meeting was Maito Gai. Everyone else probably wouldn’t be _too_ far from an Uzushio survivor or Uzu-tranined ninja baseline, but Gai was… something else apparently. At least, Menma couldn’t think of anyone to compare to a bombastic taijutsu genius running around in a bright green spandex bodysuit, orange legwarmers, and a very shiny bowl cut, bellowing with joyful abandon about the “Youthfulness” of life.

“So what were you planning on doing in Konoha?” Hayate-san asked quietly.

Menma tilted his head to show that he heard him (and if Izumo and Kotetsu got any louder, Menma was going to slap down a privacy seal just so he could have a _conversation_ without feeling like an old man) and considered the question a little more thoroughly. “Well, there’s missions of course, but that won’t be for another month at least. I mean, money isn’t really an issue because I supposedly have, like, a decade’s worth of backpay—”

“Supposedly?” Genma produced a senbon from somewhere and flipped it between his fingers before tucking it into his mouth, ignoring the squabbling going on beside him with the ease of someone who has had to suffer through it many times before.

“My handler is a bit of a cheapskate. But the money’s actually there, so, like I said, not an issue. But other than missions….” He had mentioned that one possibility to the Sandaime and, really, that felt like the best fit, not just for him but for some of the others, and maybe…. He nodded. “A seal shop.”

The terrible twosome’s argument cut off abruptly and Menma very calmly took a sip of water and pretended that the whole table _wasn’t_ staring at him.

“We, uh, we have some of those,” Raidou said carefully.

For once, clan pride won over common sense and he was in a position to actually let it. “Yeah, but that’s, like, exploding tags and storage seals— _pre-gennin_ stuff. There isn’t any variation in the exploding tags, let alone any _other_ kind of tags. Or _barriers_. Seriously, you just need, like, three sympathetic tags and it’s not like those are all that difficult either.”

Someone made a wheezing noise (either Hayate or Genma) and Iruka gave him a look that was the weirdest combination of exasperated and intrigued Menma had ever seen. “I’m pretty sure I know what you mean by variations among exploding tags, but what do you mean by _tag_ variants?”

“If you can make the seal— or at least the _trigger_ seal— small enough, you can turn it into a tag. Shock tags, smoke tags, _ice_ tags— _that_ was a fun week— sound tags, paralysis tags, hell, even _genjutsu_ tags. Although the last two are trickier to make and you really can’t do anything too complicated with a seal-based genjutsu. They tend to be harder to dispel, though, so it’s a pretty fair trade off.”

“Why not just hit the enemy with a ninjutsu?” Kotetsu asked, utterly intrigued.

“Prep time,” Genma guessed, looking at Menma far too shrewdly to leave the red head comfortable.

Menma ignored the feeling with practiced ease. “Well, yeah, that’s part of it; just slap the tag on them and that’s it. But it’s also about accessibility. Fuuinjutsu’s tricky to use in a fight because you either have to lure your enemy into it or you have to figure out some way to get it to _them_ and you have to do it in a way that they don’t see it coming, or at least not in time to do anything about it. And not everyone has the control Namikaze-sama had to go slapping a seal down on everything you lay your hands on. _And_ if you want to put a paralysis seal on someone, you’re further handicapped by the fact that those sorts of seals have to be placed on bare skin. An elemental tag just needs to be close enough, but you can’t really do anything to effect the nerves if you aren’t touching them.” He shrugged. “So, tags— small, easy to conceal, easy to modify strength and range of effect, easy to deploy, and hard to see coming. And you get the bonus that they’re all sized similarly, meaning that your opponent has no real way to know what’s coming, even if they’re aware of the variations.” There had been a moment of grief from the other shinobi when he’d mentioned the Yondaime, particularly intense from Genma and a little less so from Raidou, but Menma tucked that fact away for later. Mostly, they were all just staring at him in varying states of blank-faced shock and impressed surprise. Which was mildly disconcerting since Konoha was basically the inheritor of Uzushio’s legacy of Fuuinjutsu. Shouldn’t they have at least known more of the basic theory? And again, tags were about as basic as you could get, with the exception of genjutsu or paralysis tags and the like.

“Pre-gennin level, huh?” Genma clicked his senbon with a thoughtful air. “Well, you’ll have to let me know when you open up for business. Some of those tags sound _interesting_.” The look he gave Menma was… considering.

Menma tried not to react as if he was under hostile surveillance. Judging by the way Raido elbowed the needle-nin, he didn’t _quite_ succeed.

“I mean, I could do it now?” Menma said dryly. “Not in bulk, obviously, but it’s not like I can’t do _anything_ until I have a shop picked out.” Which he wasn’t actually going to do until closer to the end of the month when he would have help coming.

Maybe he should warn them?

Nah, it was going to be too much fun to watch them try and figure out what the heck was going on when the other jerks Menma worked with decided they were all up for adoption. _Especially_ Genma; Kasumi would snatch him right up into her little cohort of caretakers.

The retired shinobi who was their waiter came by to take their orders, giving Menma a look that was half curiosity, half sympathy as he did.

“So what would be up for sale?” Genma asked.

Menma had done it so many times before, he didn’t even need a hand-sign to access his storage seal. Just the barest flicker of chakra and he caught the little collection of paper before it hit the table, half tossing it to the other ninja. “Anything in there.”

It was something he and the others had come up with— a collection of standard and frequently used tags. Exploding (both standard and a few that varied either in strength or trigger), barrier, smoke, sound, lightning, and chakra storage that could be used for a _lot_ of things if you were creative enough, plus a Notice-Me-Not and a genjutsu that made things look just an inch to the left of where they were.

The other ninja all crowded close for a better look, Kotetsu and Izumo actually starting to crawl over each other to see. Genma’s eyebrows shot up as he flipped through the little packet and stayed up— even if he didn’t entirely understand the seals, he clearly knew enough to pick out what they were. Iruka looked like he was sorely tempted to snatch the paper and keep it for himself, even if it was obvious he knew less than Genma. Everyone else started asking questions at a rate that would make his few baby cousins proud so they could figure out what the different seals did and from there it ended up devolving into a pseudo-lecture that tripped its way through a lot of different topics, especially once Genma started asking about where Menma usually kept the packet and basics of putting seals on living beings had slipped in.

By the time everyone was done eating and had gone their separate ways, Menma had orders for seven basic packets, six alterable storage scrolls for storing mission equipment, and at least a dozen more Notice-Me-Not, genjutsu, and barrier tags, plus a warning that there would be others interested once word got out. Umino had also suggested that he put some serious thought into teaching the Fuuinjutsu unit at the Academy, and while Menma _himself_ probably wouldn’t, he could easily think of half a dozen names who would be willing and much better at it than he would. Not that he _couldn’t _teach, but the others were simply _better_ at it than him in a classroom setting (which, to be fair, was pretty much the _only_ way to teach the basics of Fuuinjutsu).

Genma snagged his arm as they exited the restaurant, eyes suddenly very keen, and waved off everyone else. “How come you never gave your clan name?”

Instinct of over a decade had him saying, “What clan name,” before he could actually think about it.

Brown eyes turned no-nonsense, although somehow still managed to be friendly. “You’re gonna stand there with _that_ red hair, your ridiculously large charkra reserves, and more fuuinjutsu than everyone except the Hokage or Jiriaya-sama and tell me you’re _not_ an Uzumaki? I’m not gonna _do_ anything about it, I’m just curious why.”

“I’m… not exactly in the habit of adding it to my introductions. It’s…. Look, when Uzushio fell, anyone who survived scattered, right? The thing is, none of the other clans had anything particularly physically distinct, so the Uzumaki got hit hardest. Kumo’s mostly laid off at this point, but Kiri still tells ghost stories about Uzu-nin fading into the mist, leaving behind corpses covered in seals. It was just… safer not to say anything, and habits are hard to break.”

Genma rolled both the explanation and his senbon. “Fair enough.” He grinned and threw an arm over Menma’s shoulder, pulling him out into the street. “But you’re in the village now, and we’ll help watch your back, yeah?”

The sheer friendly willingness caught Menma off guard. “You’re not worried.”

“Well, the Hokage okayed you, for one. And the ANBU’ll keep an eye out for another.” The sideways glance was keen and knowing.

Menma wasn’t sure if the _and I can keep an eye on you better by sticking close_ was actually implied or not, but either way, it was true and Menma was paranoid enough himself that he couldn’t take offense at it.

“Anyway, need any help setting up?”

“You barely know me,” he felt obligated to point out

“So?” The senbon clicked. “Give me a spar or two and we’ll call it a trade.”

Menma considered that. “Fair enough.”

“_Excellent_.” Genma’s grin was all but giddy. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a new sparring partner.”

“Been a while since I’ve had a chance to _spar_,” Menma countered good naturedly. “It’ll be fun.”

Menma resisted the urge to rest his hands on his knees, leaning back against the tree instead. He glanced over. “You okay?”

“Give me a sec,” the needle-nin gasped from where he was sprawled on the ground, chest heaving as he tried to get enough air. After a minute, he flipped over and pushed himself up onto his knees.

Menma held a hand out to help him up.

Genma took it. “You are _insane_. I haven’t had to move that fast since…” He faltered, grief flaring up and fading out, like flame on fine paper scraps. “A while.”

Menma shrugged. “I can take a hit, but all my teachers were fast. Well,” he amended, “_most_ of them were fast.” Jiraiya wasn’t _slow_, but he couldn’t really match any of his Foxes or Arashi, and he relied more on that solid strength than speed anyway. “I got really tired of having the crap kicked out of me, so I learned to keep up.”

The needle-nin gave him a considering look. “Now I’m wondering how you would have matched up against the Yondaime.”

“He would have flattened me,” Menma said firmly. “I mean, I’m good, but I’m nowhere _near_ his level, except maybe when it comes to actual chakra levels.” He might have been able to match the man’s speed using Senjustu, but Minato-sama had been a Sage as well and was already ridiculously fast on his own. The only way he’d be likely to win the fight would be outlasting his opponent, but he couldn’t take the damage as well or quickly as Minato could dish it out. He healed fast, but not _that_ fast.

“What about Fuuinjutsu?”

“I don’t actually know all that much about space-time seals,” Menma admitted. “They’re too prone to explosions in the learning phase.”

“Fair enough.” Genma paused to retie his bandana.

“I mean, I might be able to keep him from sticking a seal on me, and there’s the possibility of me getting a seal on _him_, but that’s kind of a long shot because if he’s that close, I’d probably be dead anyway.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

“It was kind of a thought exercise,” Menma admitted. “Take a high-level ninja and see if you could formulate a plan to beat them.”

“Huh.” Genma made a senbon appear from somewhere and tucked it back into his mouth. “Any you’d win against?”

“I could probably take the Kazekage, but everyone else above him is kind of iffy.”

Genma blinked, then glanced back at the clearing they’d torn up. “I’d be skeptical, but I haven’t actually had to work that hard against an opponent for a long-ass time and I _know_ that wasn’t everything you could do.”

“I mean, why would you _want_ to fight a Kage? Other than trying to stay alive, obviously.”

“Point.” The needle-nin worried his senbon for a moment. “I’m gonna go catch a shower real fast. Do you want to meet me somewhere or should I just show up at your place?”

It took Menma a moment to recall Shiranui’s offer of help moving in for a spar. “Might be simpler if I just gave you my address.”

Genma looked at him skeptically. “I’m not gonna say _no_, but—”

“Just make sure not to let yourself in,” Menma carried on blithely. “The security seals won’t _kill _you, but you definitely won’t be having a good day.”

“….That’s fair.”

He still had responsibilities outside of the Village, sure, but Genma had a point; he was, for all intents and purposes, a ninja of Konoha (or he would be once the month was up, anyway), so he might as well stop acting like an independent operator and start acting like a Village ninja.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to blackkat’s “The Life and Times of a Shinobi Den Mother” for getting Mother Hen Shiranui Genma stuck in my head, especially in regards to the adoption of Izumo, Kotetsu, and Iruka, although this is a different story and things aren’t going to turn out exactly the same here. If you haven’t read that series, you really should; it's a lot of fun.


End file.
